Absolution Never Comes
by ghotay
Summary: This is the story of Severus Snape, following him through his years at school and the trials of growing up an outcast, to finding a family among the Death Eaters, to his betrayal of the Dark Lord and ultimate turn towards the Light. Except with one difference... What if Lily wasn't the one Snape fell in love with? Snapecentric. Slash in the second half. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

This story was conceived as the backstory to a Snarry that will now probably never be written. The original idea was to have Snape's story and character as faithful to the books as possible, with the single change that he was gay. You all will have to let me know how well I succeeded in that goal.

Right now the first half of this story is complete and fully beta'd by the wonderful Snupin, but the second half is still in a rather mangled draft form, so the planned update schedule is about once a week which will hopefully give me enough time to finish the second half. There should be 21 chapters in total, give or take.

The first half is extremely Snape-centric, but the slash does come in in the second half if that's what you're here for (and there ain't nothin' wrong with that), including some M-rated stuff as well.

Well I think that's enough introduction. As with any writer, concrit is hugely appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy!

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**Absolution Never Comes**

**Part One: Boy**

**Chapter One**

He said goodbye to his mother and father outside the station. The last thing his mother said to him was to be careful of the muggles as he walked through the barrier. He acknowledged the warning, then his father drove off.

It was what he had expected.

The battered leather suitcase rattled along the paving stones behind him, the letter with the platform number on it clutched in his free hand. Platform 9¾. Right behind this pillar. He held his breath, suddenly nervous and excited, and ignored his mother's advice as he charged into what seemed to be solid brick.

The scarlet steam engine dominated the scene, shiny and bright; the low roar of a hundred voices filled his ears. He felt the charge of emotion that comes with any parting place – a mother weeping into a hug, a father placing a gruff hand on his son's shoulder. Dozens of energetic kids, rushing away from their parents to trade summer stories with friends.

But much more exciting than that was the magic he could taste on the air. People all around him were brandishing wands and tripping over owl cages, wearing wizard hats and levitating trunks. He could even see a few students already in their uniforms. He had always known this place was out there somewhere, but the vividity of its reality was beyond... anything. It was impossible to believe that he had spent his entire life so far in Spinner's End, a wizard in muggle's clothes, with this whole world waiting for him. Monochrome to technicolour.

He cast his eye about for Lily, but her flame of hair was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she was already on the train... Surrounded by families saying their last fond farewells, he felt suddenly alone, and very visible. As though someone might realise he didn't belong. He decided to board early.

Hauling the suitcase into the carriage was a struggle, but he managed it. Now, which way to head down the train. Which way was the back?

"Hey, you're a firstie too, right?" announced a voice behind him.

He turned and found he was blocking the way for a boy with an open smile and a sweep of long black hair.

"Uh, yeah," said Severus, pulling the suitcase to one side so that the boy could pass. But he carried on talking.

"My name's Black. What's yours?"

The boy had no suitcase to be seen – presumably he had already put it in a compartment somewhere.

"Severus. Severus... Snape."

"Ooh, I don't know that name. Not an old family, then?" asked the boy, starting to move down the train. Severus followed him.

"My mother's a pure-blood," said Severus.

"Oh cool. Don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those maniacs about blood purity or whatever. Just asking. Though I'm sure my mother'd have a heart attack if she knew I'd already started 'consorting with half-bloods', or whatever. Ridiculous old bag." Black had stopped outside a compartment, and Severus made to move further down the train.

"Don't be silly, come sit with us." And he took Severus by the elbow and pulled him in. The room was empty, but two suitcases lay on the luggage rack. Severus set his beside them and sat down, unsure of what to say.

"I was really happy to get my wand," started Black out of nowhere. "'Course I've been in Diagon Alley before, but never Ollivander's. Though I hate to admit it, I didn't half find him creepy!" Black pulled a length of wood from his jeans' pocket and shook it hard. "Doesn't do much yet. But I suppose that's why we're going to school, eh? Have you managed to do any magic yet?"

"Sometimes, I make objects move... but that's without meaning to." He didn't feel the need to mention any of the objects he had made move. They had generally been flying towards his head at high speed. Severus dragged the pads of his fingers down the wand in his own pocket, feeling the fine grain of the wood. That visit to Diagon Alley had been the first time he had ever been in a magical place. An all-wizard place. Ollivander's had smelt like beeswax and promises. His father hadn't gone.

"That's nothing!" cried a new boy as he entered the compartment, "I was barely five before I was changing the colours of my toys, levitating when I tripped, the works. My parents never had any doubt about me," he added, perhaps a little smugly.

This new boy was addressing Black – clearly this was the owner of the second suitcase. But then he paused and turned to Severus, holding out his hand. "I'm James Potter, by the way." Severus returned the gesture a little limply before Potter turned back to Black and began an amusing anecdote about a toy broomstick.

Their conversation continued a little in this vein, each of Potter and Black telling stories of their underage magical antics while Severus listened. Then a trolley arrived, dripping with chocolates, sweets and treats of every kind. The fact that Severus had no money was somehow overlooked, and he ended up with a pumpkin pasty and a pair of chocolate frogs. The conservation lapsed as they munched, until Potter said suddenly to Black:

"Say, what house do you think you'd be in?"

Black considered this a moment before saying with a slightly disgusted look on his face; "Well, my whole family have been in Slytherin, bu-"

"No!" gasped Potter, "And you seemed like an alright guy. I would never've pegged you for a snake! _My_ family have all been in Gryffindor. At least ten generations."

"My mother was in Slytherin," murmured Severus. The two boys' eyes swivelled towards him and he fought to keep down a blush.

"Well – she was."

Black clapped him on the back. "Well, I won't hold that against you! Because, as I had been about to say before I was so _rudely_ interrupted, I don't like the sound of Slytherin at all. Growing up in a whole clan of them, they're just a bunch of bloodline-obsessed, slimy, conniving little... Well, I suppose it could just be my family. I can hardly believe I'm related to them sometimes, you know. I mean, look at me. I'm clearly much too dashing and brilliant to be put in with that lot. No, I was thinking of going against family tradition and disappointing the hell out of my dear old mum. She'll be livid."

Potter laughed. "The lot of us for Gryffindor, then! You can join onto my family tradition instead. I'm an only child, there's plenty of room."

"You know, I'm not sure I'd want to be related to you," said Black. "Are the rest of your family all so ugly?"

And then they were all laughing – young and lighthearted. Like old friends. It was suddenly easy – to imagine laughing like this. On and on.

The rest of the train ride passed quickly amongst the chatting and joking. Black and Potter were quite loud and they talked about things that Severus didn't know about, but he found that he didn't mind so very much. As night began to fall they each changed into their robes. Black and Potter's were clearly new. Severus only hoped that his own tatty hems wouldn't show too much in the dark. He would have to learn a spell to fix them.

The train arrived at Hogsmeade and they pushed onto the crowded platform. Most of the students were moving off in groups towards carriages, but a gruff voice was calling out: "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Severus followed the direction of the cry, but was somehow separated from Black and Potter in the darkness and rush. He found himself pushed into a boat opposite a clearly terrified boy with curly hair and, next to him –

Lily. And her green eyes that shone in the night.

The boats were small but sturdy and Severus found that he felt quite safe, and much too excited to feel the cold. They slid over the surface of the water and it was rough and windy, but the sky was lit with stars and Lily's eyes. "I can't believe we're finally here," she said as Hogwarts came into view. Severus didn't have the breath to agree.

The castle was magnificent – each of its turrets framed against the sky like daggers to heaven. It seemed to have hundreds of windows. The number of rooms – of treasures and secrets it must contain. Severus thought of the books he had read as a child of fantasy worlds and magical places, and found that they hardly compared to the real thing. He looked down at the surface of the lake and felt a twist of anger in his gut that this had all been denied him for so long. That he had been raised as a muggle, in that muggle house, on that muggle street... But then he raised his eyes to the lit windows again and felt a greater calm pass over him.

_It's real. For us._

They were ushered from the lakeside into an entrance hall – all of them small and eager, illuminated by flaming torches on all sides. A tall woman who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall told them to wait until they were ready to be sorted. She left, and they waited.

Severus and Lily found themselves next to Potter and Black again. They appeared to have found two new boys on their boat. One, a thin, brown-haired boy who looked about as nervous as Severus was beginning to feel, and a short, slightly chubby boy who was visibly sweating with anticipation. Or perhaps he had been splashed by the lake, it was difficult to tell.

Potter and Black were talking loudly – not so loudly as before, but Severus now found it bothersome. Didn't they realise how important this moment was?

_My mother was in Slytherin._

He'd never put much thought to the idea of being Sorted. Finally arriving at Hogwarts had been too large an idea to think beyond. If he had thought anything at all, it might have been a vague assumption that he would be in Slytherin. But his mother had talked so little about magic and her own schooldays that he hardly knew what to think. And the looks on Potter and Black's faces when they had mentioned Slytherin... The idea of being Sorted was starting to make him feel sick. Lily said something to him – some curious, innocent thought, but Severus couldn't focus.

Too soon the tall woman came back and they were being led into the Great Hall. Four table's worth of students turned to look at them and Severus stared reflexively at the floor, totally unaware of the the spectacular enchanted ceiling above him.

A hat was there, at the top of the hall. On a stool. It began to sing.

Severus heard the four houses described, each with their virtues celebrated as equally worthy. He wondered how that could be, when they were all so different. But more troubling, he just couldn't see where he belonged. He wasn't brave, or cunning. Perhaps Ravenclaw? But being good at muggle schoolwork might not mean anything here. Perhaps he would be terrible at magic. Hufflepuff, then?

The hat's song came to an end and he applauded with leaden hands. The first person was called up – Abigail Antworthy. She put the hat on, and after a moment it bellowed RAVENCLAW. One of the tables seemed delighted – yelling and beckoning and stamping their feet.

Black was next. The call of "GRYFFINDOR!" across the room created another tidal wave of cheers. He went to sit down with his house, giving Potter a double thumbs-up as he went.

A few more people, then Lily. Gryffindor, almost instantly. Of course. The brown-haired boy. The chubby boy. Potter. All Gryffindors. His name was called. _Snape, Severus._

Three tottery steps up to the stool. Hundreds of people in the hall.

The hat fell over his eyes and the darkness of its inside was calming. The hum of voices from the Hall was muted and this, too, was calming. He almost didn't want to take it off and be confronted with all those eyes – all of whom would soon know who he truly was.

His hands gripped the sides of the stool. His mind went blank.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The hat was removed and the table on the right of the Hall was whooping and cheering. A tall blonde boy with a gleaming Prefect badge smiled at him benevolently.

He was practically pushed towards his new table to make way for the next child to be Sorted. He stumbled as he went and, almost involuntarily, turned to look at the Gryffindor table.

Potter was looking at him with an expression of puzzlement which, even as Severus watched, turned to one of deepest loathing. Black's eyes were inscrutable. The two boys whose names he did not know looked at him openly, almost curious, and yet not quite. There was a wall there. They knew.

He turned, as a last hope, to look at Lily. Her green eyes glittered with nothing but pity.

He sat down and turned his eyes to the empty plate before him. The light of a thousand candles shone in its golden surface while a dozen hands clapped him on the back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Severus was struggling through the crowds on the Hogwarts Express. Why anyone would be so happy to go home, he had no idea. He was trying to make his way to the back of train and the last few empty compartments, but the jubilance of the rest of the school made them careless as to where they put their elbows, and progress was slow.

A door slid open next to him and Lupin stepped on his feet.

"Oh, erm – sorry," said Lupin, and turned back into the compartment, quickly shutting the door behind him. The carriage, of course, was occupied by all of the self-styled 'Marauders'. There was Potter, two first year girls fawning pathetically along with – oh dear. Pettigrew, practically at his feet. No doubt giggling at some idiotic joke Potter had just told. And next to him was Black. Naturally. Drinking in the attention, relaxed back in his seat with that tomcat grin.

If their egos got any more inflated they would probably explode.

He continued down the train, mind-boggled as ever that girls seemed to find being on the Quidditch team in second year so terribly impressive. Though judging by an explosive argument he had witnessed in the charms corridor, Lily at least did not seem to easily bought by sporting success and good looks. And Lupin wasn't so bad. He was quiet, and intelligent. Severus almost thought they could have got along, if not for the rest of the Marauders. And between that lot and Severus... well, whatever.

He finally fought his way through the crowded train to an empty compartment in the penultimate carriage. He dumped his bookbag on the seat and took the window seat, craning his neck to try and glimpse the castle's towers. He knew he couldn't; he had tried last year.

The train started moving and he settled into a charms book he had 'borrowed' from the library. It hadn't been too difficult to break the anti-theft charm which was, ironically, one of the charms taught in the book. His bag was filled with other books liberated in this fashion, in the hope that they would make the long summer pass more quickly. It's not like they would be missed, and he would return them when he returned.

Severus lost himself easily to the intricacies of charmwork, and was unsurprised though nevertheless relieved that no one attempted to join him in his compartment. This far back the train was quiet and that suited him nicely.

Around lunchtime other students began to chase each other up and down the corridors and stop for conversation between compartments. It became noisier, to the point where Severus was finding it hard to concentrate. Finally, a shriek right outside his door caused him to slam his book down. He glared at the sunny countryside that scudded by.

"Stupid _Potter_ and his _girlfriends_," he muttered resentfully at the misty glass. "Thinks he's so good at _Quidditch_."

"Well, you've got to admit, he's not _awful_ on a broom," announced a voice

Severus jumped at the interruption. He restrained himself from jumping again when he saw who was striding confidently into his compartment.

Lucius Malfoy, seventh year, subject of adoration and obsession for much of the female population of Slytherin House. Flanked, as ever, by Crabbe and Goyle. He settled down comfortably opposite Severus, who said nothing.

"Not that I haven't managed to knock him off it a few times," smirked Malfoy.

Of course. Malfoy was one of the Slytherin chasers. Almost as bad as Potter, the great cocky twerp.

"Oh don't glare so, Snape," said Malfoy expansively. "This is the only compartment left that isn't swarming with Gryffindors and screaming children."

This couldn't possibly be true as Malfoy must have been sitting somewhere for the past two hours. Severus' instinctive suspicion deepened. Nevertheless, when the opportunity to gripe about the Marauders presented itself...

"You'd hardly believe they were purebloods – the way Black and Potter lap up those mudblood girls. Thinking they're so good because of Quidditch, and teachers thinking their cocky little faces are worth listening to," a bite of hatred forced its way through his voice. "And that Pettigrew is frankly pathetic. The way he sucks up to those two. It's a disgrace. And I'm _very_ suspicious of Remus Lupin. All those absences –"

Only at that moment did Severus realise that Malfoy was looking at him oddly. As if he were trying to read something near the edge of his vision, or weighing up some difficult odds.

"They're just arrogant and lazy, that's all I'm saying," said Severus, clutching the worn strap of his bag.

A moment passed.

"Crabbe. Goyle. Leave us."

They left immediately, as though someone had jerked their puppet strings. Severus was confused, but his wand was in his pocket. And his bag was heavy enough with books. His breathing was measured.

Lucius leaned forwards onto the table between them. "Severus, I can see that you're a talented young wizard – "

"Don't insult me with false flattery, Malfoy."

"It's far from false. But I see you are not to be distracted with cheap words. Very well, I would expect no less. And please," he added graciously, "Call me Lucius."

There was nothing to say to this. Severus stared at the older boy.

Lucius smiled. "Tell me, Severus, do you have any fondness for muggles?"

"No! Why should I? They're – they're common, and lazy, and think they're better than us when they're not!"

"Quite. And muggle-borns?"

"I... well – "

"Ah, your hesitancy reveals you! You must see, must you not, that muggle-borns are just as bad, if not worse than muggles. That weak, arrogant muggle blood runs through their veins, and yet they call themselves wizards!_You _are pure-blood, of course?"

"I – yes –"

"Good," purred Lucius. A flat light seemed to shine in his grey eyes.

"Severus... do you know that there is a plague spreading through the wizarding world? A pox, a _disease_, that is slowly infecting each and every one of us who is not absolutely vigilant. We wizards are slowly being weakened. Brought down by our own kind. Diluted." Severus's grip on the edge of the table tightened just a fraction. "I am of course referring to the insidious contamination of our magic, our minds, our blood, by muggle-loving attitudes. You know what I'm talking about, don't you?" Before he could respond, Lucius went on. "I know you do. The way those soft fools like Dumbledore teach us to cater to their needs. Ridiculous things we are taught – _muggle studies_; they expect us to learn their ways so we can live in peace and harmony. We are taught that muggles are _equal_ to us. What do you think?"

This one really did seem to require an answer.

He remembered how, growing up, the boys on his street would play football by the canal. But he was never allowed to play. They jeered and threw stones at him if he came close. He remembered Lily, when they had been friends. Her parents had been very nice to him, and let him in for tea occasionally. But she never spoke to him any more. They would never invite him round for tea again.

He thought about the summer he was about to go home to. The shouting, the throwing. In that house he was a nothing.

What had any muggles ever done for him?

Severus looked down and frowned. "They can't do what we can do... Why should we have to treat them equally?"

He looked up into Lucius's smiling eyes.

"Exactly. I knew you saw it too. Wizards are born to rule over muggles just as man is born to rule over beasts. They are sheep to us."

Lucius paused, and another peculiar look passed across his face. The first sign of hesitation that this incredibly self-possessed older boy had displayed.

"Severus, have you ever heard of the one they call..." and Lucius mouthed two words.

_Lord Voldemort_.

Severus's breath caught. "I've heard... heard things."

And indeed there had always been whispers. Older Slytherins, muttering in corners together. Secret things. Adult things.

"Then perhaps you have heard that he has a great vision for the wizarding world. No, for the whole world... There is no right and wrong, Severus – just power, and those too weak to seek it. The Dark Lord sees the weakness in this world – in the Ministry, in the people who govern this world, and he is disgusted. And you see it too. The way mudbloods and muggles gallivant as though they were equal to the rest of us. The Dark Lord seeks to make a better, wiser world for those who are _deserving_." Severus became suddenly aware of a great thundering in his chest. This was the explanation he had been waiting for, and never known it. He had always known he deserved more. More than abuse, than being ignored. The world had wronged him and this – this was why.

"He has a following. An army. We call ourselves the Death Eaters."

"He's going to... fix the world?"

"That's exactly what he's going to do. The Dark Lord has great plans, plans only now being set in motion, but which soon the whole world will know about. And by then there will be only with him... or against him. Of course, great things can only be achieved by _great_ wizards –"

"I could do it," interrupted Severus, reacting solely to the note of doubt that had crept into the older Slytherin's voice.

"I know you could. I did not choose you randomly, Severus. You have great potential, great ambition. You would be a great asset to the Dark Lord. He is the greatest of all of us. And he rewards his followers very handsomely. I only ask... Would you join us?"

The compartment was bright in the summer sun. The fields were dappled with the shadows of wispy clouds that floated lazily across the sky. Kestrels no doubt swooped majestically above the English countryside in search of rabbits. Cows chewed pensively whilst badgers dug their sets. Somewhere, there were people getting married, having arguments, going on holiday.

In this compartment, there was Lucius.

Severus's mouth felt dry.

"Severus, this is the greatest opportunity you will ever receive in your life. I am offering you the chance to join the army that will rule the world." A brightness grew in Lucius's eyes, "A chance to serve the greatest wizard who has ever lived, and seize the power you have deserved since you were born with magical blood running through your veins. You would be thanked forever as one of those who changed the world – saved it. In the ranks of the Dark Lord. And for all that – such great and fabulous rewards, do you know what he asks for? All he asks for?"

"N – no..."

"_Loyalty_. Just loyalty. Strength, power, respect – you have great potential to possess all of these things, and the Dark Lord will help you. Just tell me, Severus. Are you willing to be loyal?"

"But I'm so... I'm only a Second Year."

"I know that. And there are others, older than you, who are already preparing to join. But you will be in your Third Year next year, and you will have a long time at Hogwarts in which you could help the Dark Lord. I ask you again: are you willing to be loyal?"

A thousand thoughts rushed through his head. Right and wrong? But who was right, anyway? Beating a child with a belt wasn't right. Hexing someone's nose off wasn't right. Where were right and wrong when he needed them? There is only power...

"What's the catch?"

Lucius banged his fist down on the table, making Severus start. "Severus, I thought better of you. I would not deceive you. And just as there is no room for weakness in the Dark Lord's ranks, there is no room for uncertainty either. If you cannot reply in an absolute affirmative, I have no use for you."

Lucius was there: bold, terrifying, confident. He was going to take _action_. Why had he, Severus, never taken any action? Taken the cruelties of life as they came, and never resisted? He could be _great_...

Lucius' eyes scanned his face as, at last, the young Slytherin looked up from his lap.

"Yes."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Severus ran over the words of Lucius's final promise again and again, until they were as familiar to him as his own name.

_"Go home and wa__it__ for my owl. Sometime in July, I will send for you and you will come to Malfoy Manor. Do not attempt to come before. There I will tell you what I need you to do, and you will begin your service to the Dark Lord."_

This dream carried him like a bubble through the drive home. The dank, depressing air in the house, breathed out in anger and abandoned to stagnation, seemed thinner. The ceaseless arguments from downstairs seemed quieter. This family knitted from cruelty and neglect, didn't matter so much any more. And rather than longing for the familiar comforts of the castle, as he had all of last summer, Severus dreamed instead of Lucius's letter.

Because now he knew. He knew how things were, and he knew what to do. He knew what he had always felt instinctively – that there was a terrible injustice in the world that needed to be cleansed to afford him the respect he deserved. He had something above Hogwarts, beyond magic – more powerful than any spell, more heady than any potion. There were greater things out there. Forces, moving silently, that he could become a part of.

He had a _purpose_.

The sun was low in the sky; a small, watery blob threatening to droop below the horizon at any moment. It cast the windowsills of the narrow houses in a sombre ochre light and reflected off their cracked panes into a young boy's eyes.

Severus was kicking a brick.

He had kicked this brick all the way from the canal via a circuitous route that had taken him down down three streets, two alleys and across one railway line. The ability to perform such a feat without suffering terrifically sore toes was one of the few advantages of having boots several sizes too big.

It had been three weeks now. More. Three weeks and three days. Lucius hadn't owled.

Not so much as a note. A whisper. A hint.

In a spasm of frustration Severus kicked the brick across the street at a passing cat. He knew the animal had plenty of time to avoid the ill-intentioned block of ceramic and so it did, darting under a nearby hedge.

Source of amusement lost – or at least now too far away to retrieve without an unacceptable level of effort – Severus huffed down onto the curb, his jumper settling around him in the dust.

The summer was more than half over. And the further time drew away from that defining moment when Lucius had made his promise, the more unbearable things became.

Tobias Snape had missed his son. The long months with only Eileen to torment had only fuelled his anger – her increasing passivity was clearly frustrating him. The way her eyes deadened the second he touched her. Severus usually knew how to avoid angering his father. Most of it was avoidance – don't be seen, don't be heard, don't leave any sign that you were in the room. But when he heard the man's heavy tread coming up the stairs, yelling as he came, then he was helpless. Sometimes, if he was lucky, his father would get into a talking mood, and if Severus could keep him happy he only had to listen to the same old rambling, long, and confused reminiscences. Most of which were self-inflating lies, or stories that had rattled apart over the years, the truth ever further obscured by the fog of alcohol in his brain.

If not...

Severus shook his head, not wishing to dwell on it.

His mother never yelled. Silent when her husband was in the room, then when he left she would snipe and snit. Little things that tore at the corners of his heart, made him feel more useless, more helpless. "Put away your dishes would you? Or shall I, since you don't love your mother anyway", "Oh you go up to your room, just leave me here, it's not like I matter." And yet that was still better than her softer moods. When she would wheedle and whine and make apologies and excuses for her husband. Severus felt a quiet clench of anger through his body. Those excuses were the reason he could never forgive her. The reason he –

He stopped that train of thought too. Thinking about his mother was painful. But thinking about Lucius was painful too, and Hogwarts was a long way away, and there was dinner to face: over-boiled vegetables seasoned with resentment, condiments passed without eye contact, tap water for two and whiskey for one. He didn't want to go home, he really didn't. But he had nowhere else to go. And better to turn up now than after dark. He'd made that mistake before.

The boy picked himself up off the floor and traversed the final hundred metres to his front door.

Severus hung out of the window of his attic room, bored to tears.

Nearly four weeks now, and things had become clear. Lucius was not going to send him an owl. He was not going to send him a letter, or a note, or an invitation to Malfoy Manor. Lucius was not, in fact, going to send him anything at all. This was because he was a bad person.

Strangely enough, it had not been a difficult conclusion to come to. It had just suddenly become very clear to him. He had no one. His parents could barely stand the sight of him, he had no friends, and now Lucius was not going to write to him. He had never been good enough. The world was punishing him. As no doubt he deserved.

A feathery seed floated by on the lifeless air and Severus plucked it from its aerial journey. He sighed and pulled himself off the windowsill, then locked his feet under the bed frame and leant his back against the sill so that he could inspect the terraced roofs and broken chimney pots from upside-down.

He held the little seed above his head and turned it over in his hands. When they had been small, Lily had taught him to wish on things like these. He had always wished for the same things. Simple things. Hugs. Laughter.

There was a time back when he thought if only he were better, things could be different. If he could be a better son then maybe his parents would remember why they married each other, and fall back in love. If he didn't make father angry so much, then he and mother wouldn't argue so much and then maybe mother would be nicer to him. And then maybe if he lived in a nice house with a happy family Lily could come over and they could be friends again, just like before. Maybe. But mother was never nice and father was always angry and Lily hadn't spoken to him in years. Not since he'd been sorted into Slytherin.

So what was there left to wish for? Severus sat up. Probably nothing.

But it was so hard, being thirteen. All alone.

_I wish for someone. Anyone._

And he surrendered his dreams to the sky.

Severus awoke to the sounds of indignant hooting.

As soon as he was awake enough to process this, he leapt to the open window and feverishly tore a scrap of paper from the leg of an irritated eagle owl.

A single line.

_Tomorrow. Come in the morning. Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire._

Severus thought his heart would burst.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay in updating, time makes fools of us all! Things should hopefully be back on schedule from now

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**Chapter Four**

Severus Snape had been wide awake since dawn. It felt like the sun was being deliberately slow in rising, and his battered alarm clock was definitely ticking slower than usual. Every book he owned now contained only the interminable witterings of senile old men.

Today was the day that he was going to go to Malfoy Manor. This very morning. He had been invited. He was going to see Lucius.

He didn't know how he was going to get there.

The truth was that, simmering under the thick carpet of boredom and itchy anxiety, was a deep, frothing terror. He could not ask permission. He had no money for a train or bus, even if he had known which one to take. He couldn't very well walk.

He had turned it over a thousand times and knew there were no alternatives – he would have to take the floo. An idea far easier conceived than carried out. As far as he was aware, the floo in their house had not been used during his entire lifetime. He did not know why his mother had connected their fireplace to the network at all, assuming the house had not simply been bought that way. Though that had always struck him as unlikely, as it was a Muggle neighbourhood. And yet, he had only heard his mother mention the floo twice, and only in passing. Both times it had led to... _an argument_, Severus thought forcefully. Not allowing himself to think the words for what his father really did.

Muggles. There was nothing domestic about it.

He knew the theory behind how to use the floo but he had never actually travelled by fireplace before, nor even witnessed one in use. He knew that they had floo powder, though, and that was a relief. His father had knocked over the little urn once whilst staggering out of his chair and Severus had seen his mother discreetly regather the green powder some hours later.

As his alarm clock crept towards half eight, he decided to station himself at the top of the narrow staircase. From there he could easily watch the living room door without being visible from the rest of the house. His plan was to wait for his father to leave the living room, then make a dash for it. There was always the chance that his parents would notice his absence and punish him, but then there was always that chance irrespective of what he did. His father usually got up to have a coffee – with a generous tot of whiskey – by about 9 o'clock, so Severus was confident enough that he could escape undetected.

By 9:30, he was growing desperate. His father's snores continued rumbling from the sitting room. Severus could see the scene clearly in his mind's eye – his father slumped in the old brown armchair, half-empty bottle by his side.

His father was _usually_ up by nine. But he could easily sleep in until noon.

A painful knot of panic began to grow in Severus's chest as his brain scrambled for other options. But he didn't own a broom, there were no other wizarding families whose floo he could use, he could hardly sneak up to the fireplace as the noise would undoubtedly wake his father up...

_Except he could_.

He could walk straight through the room and disappear right in front of him. There was no way his father would have time enough to stop him.

In fact, what was stopping him?

He knew what it was. Fear. Fear of pain. Of the dread of having to return home and knowing what awaits you at the door. Fear, above all else, of the anticipation. Of standing on the doorstep. Uncertainty – what will happen this time? How bad will it be? How much will it hurt?

Weakness. Nothing but weakness.

_No room for weakness in the Dark Lord's ranks._

Inflated by this thought, Severus moved before his nerve failed him. He scrambled down the steps, stopping silently, flat against the wall across from the living room door. A single heart beat's worth of hesitation.

He propelled himself off the wall and burst through the door, eliciting a great cry from his father which modulated from surprise to anger even as Severus dashed across the room.

He scudded to his knees and reached for the magical powder but managed instead to upset the pot –

"You stupid – !" bellowed Tobias, not comprehending what his son was about to do, jerking up from the armchair.

Severus's heart, already pumping on pure adrenaline, jolted in his chest. He snatched up a handful of floo powder from the carpet and threw it into the fireplace, screaming: "MALFOY MANOR," as he leapt headfirst into the emerald flames. The last thing he felt was his father's hand around his leg – he kicked out instinctively even as the magic span round his head and whizzed him away.

His elbows were the first part of his body to acquaint themselves with Malfoy Manor. Namely, its hard marble floors, made negligibly more hospitable by the addition of a hearth rug. The next piece of information came from his ears, whose first impression was that his father had somehow followed him through the floo as there was still a great deal of shouting going on.

"–Think that's going to solve everything, do you?"

Severus's pulse and breathing steadied as his eyes focused and allowed him to take in the hall around him. The colour scheme seemed to be various shades of dark: dark stone slabs, a dark green rug, surrounded by dark wood-panelled walls hung with dark oil paintings of grim-faced old men. Previous Malfoys through the centuries, he supposed.

The angry voice continued its tirade: "You are a foolish, foolish child. Do you know that your cousin Caspar achieved exactly _double_ the number of acceptable grades I am currently looking at? Frankly I am ashamed to call you my son, I –"

Severus got up off the floor and dusted himself off. Only now did it occur to him that he was dressed in entirely muggle clothes, and poorly-fitting ones at that. The scale of the house made him very ill at ease.

He traversed the width of the hall and reached the door from behind which the voices – for a second voice now seemed to be putting up its defence – were emanating.

"–Just don't understand! You have no idea, just no idea what you are saying! Who you are dismissing! There is change in the world, father, and you could end up on the wrong –"

"Change! The only change I'd like to see in this world is a change in these grades! I hardly think – !"

Severus gently pushed on the door to peer at the occupants of the room. He could just see what must surely be Lucius's back – the long blond hair could belong to no one else, but the other speaker was still beyond his crack of vision. He pushed just a little more...

The door gave an almighty creak and Lucius whirled whip-fast at the noise. The next moment the door was yanked fully open by the other speaker. Severus found himself nose-to-chest with a tall man in magnificent charcoal robes. He looked up and found a stern, moustached face and piercing grey eyes looking at him accusatorially.

"Well?" demanded the man who could only be Malfoy Senior.

Severus stepped back. "I – I'm sorry, it's just that –"

"I'm sorry, father," said Lucius, "this is Severus Snape. I asked him to come."

Malfoy turned to his son and strode back into the room, leaving Severus awkwardly in the doorway.

"And you did not think to tell me?"

"I'm sorry, father. I only owled him yesterday. I was going to tell you, but then the NEWTs came and –"

"And revealed what a lazy, complacent, useless _blob_ I have for a son?"

Lucius stared hard at the ground and offered no resistance. His face was blank, but in a way that Severus recognised. It was a blankness of control, not lack of emotion.

Malfloy Senior rounded alarmingly on Severus. "Look at this," he commanded, thrusting a piece of paper in Severus's face and withdrawing it before he could read anything. "A miserable excuse for a set of grades. What do you make of that?"

"I – I –" stuttered Severus.

"And do you know what he's going to do now? He's going to go _travelling_. That's right, travelling. A Malfoy son and heir, and he's off to do some nimby-pamby travelling. To what end, one may ask? Change the bleeding world, he says!" Lucius changed the corner of the room he was staring into as his father alternated between yelling at his son and terrifying the poor boy that had wandered into their house.

"How do you propose to do that, O son of mine?"

"I've told you before –" muttered Lucius.

"Oh yes, your Dark Lord. Man of mystery. Going to eliminate all the mudbloods. Well I've not seen hide nor hair of the cur, and you know what this sounds like to me? A grand excuse to avoid going into the ministry, getting a wife and doing your DUTY as my SON AND HEIR! I am not leaving you a KNUT, a KNUT, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

Flecks of spittle flew from the man's mouth as he screamed in his son's face. Lucius remained staring resolutely at the floor.

"Get out."

Lucius moved past his father as quickly as possible without running and grabbed Severus by the elbow, pulling him back into the hall.

They went up two grand staircases before Lucius dragged him into a room and shut the door, then released his elbow, strode to the window on the other side of the room, and stood there quite still.

They must be in Lucius's bedroom. It was sumptuous in décor, and yet still somehow bare and impersonal; the bed, wardrobe and dresser all entirely devoid of personal touches. The only sign of habitation was a locked trunk resting by the door.

"I am sorry about that."

Severus said nothing and after another moment Lucius turned away from the window and back towards Severus. A new expression was on his face – one of anticipation, almost.

"You doubted me, didn't you? Doubted that I would owl?"

"Well, yes," conceded Severus, and before he could continue Lucius interrupted:

"I don't blame you. I had intended to write earlier, but things..." a shadow passed briefly over the older boy's face before clearing. "Never mind. You're here now. And you can doubt me. Just don't – _don't_ doubt the Dark Lord..." Lucius turned to look at his trunk. "I'm going to join the Death Eaters. I know where they are and I will be with the Dark Lord soon. You must realise what your role is to be?"

In fact, Severus had given this a great deal of thought, but every time had drawn a blank. What possible part could he play in the changing of the world from the confines of the castle, unable to do magic unsupervised, even.

He shook his head.

"You, Severus, are to be the new recruiting officer in Hogwarts."

"I – what?"

"What I want you to do is look out for people who can help our cause. As I found you, I want you to find others. Intelligent people with ambition. Powerful wizards. Those who will be useful. Find them and tell them."

"But I don't know anyone –"

"That is why you will _find_ them!" shouted Lucius suddenly. "I'm sorry... the point is, you will be at Hogwarts for another five years. In that time many more Slytherins will join the school. Of those, many will be idiots, or muggle-loving fools, or otherwise useless. But some is enough. Just find them. You will do this for me?"

Severus looked hard into Lucius's slate-coloured eyes, set in his pale face above high, aristocratic cheekbones and below elegantly shaped eyebrows. Long limbs and sleek hair.

"Of course."

Lucius smiled. "Excellent. The other thing I want you to do is look up these books."

He grabbed a scrap of paper from the top of the dresser and handed it to Severus, who scanned the list.

_On the Blackest Arts_  
_Dark Magic for the Dark Wizard_  
_Execrable Incantations for those of Evile Intent_

And a few others.

"But these are all... I won't be able to get these. They're d-dark magic?"

Lucius took one long step towards him and grasped Severus by the wrist, looking at him intently.

"What did I tell you? There is only power, and those too weak to seek it. Dark magic is magic like any other. Powerful magic, Severus. Powerful." Lucius released his wrist and stepped back, seemingly taking the air in Severus's lungs with him. "They're in the restricted section, but if that proves too great an obstacle for you... well you'd hardly be worth my bothering with."

"I can do it," gasped Severus.

Lucius gave him a strange smile. "Good."

"Finally, I want you to find two boys called Avery and Mulciber. They'll be going into Fourth Year, do you know them?"

"By sight, I think."

"They are sons of Death Eaters. They know of the Dark Lord and they, too, will enter into his service. They will be useful to you. Tell them I sent you."

"Okay."

"I am leaving my owl to the Hogwarts owlery. You will recognise him?"

"Yes, I... I think so."

"Be sure," commanded Lucius.

Severus strained to think of the markings around the owl's eyes; on its wings... "Yes. Yes, I know him."

"He will be able to find me. You can use him to keep me updated. And should you need anything..."

"Yes?"

"You need only write."

The thought that Lucius would only ever be a letter away was a strangely warm comfort, and Severus couldn't help but let a smile creep onto his face.

Lucius eyed him evenly.

"You will be great, Severus Snape."

And in that moment, he believed it.


End file.
